


Battle Panem

by FortuneFaded2012



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Child Soldiers, National lottery, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortuneFaded2012/pseuds/FortuneFaded2012
Summary: After a neighboring country bombs several districts on the eastern coast of the country, Panem’s government temporarily puts a halt to the Hunger Games and instead enacts a national lottery to call forth soldiers for war. Four teenagers quickly learn that they have been reaped into a much bigger game in which the lives of their entire nation are at stake.





	Battle Panem

The woods seem oddly silent today. There is a slender breeze that strokes at the tops of the trees, but even that sounds faint. I meet up with Gale along the far ridge of the lower mountain. It rises to the west of the fence. We agreed to hunt on our own today and meet up here. Gale was going to check the snare lines in the valley and I had planned to track some bigger game farther north. I didn’t find much of anything though. My haul is meager and worth a few coins at best. One woodchuck and a fat rabbit aren’t much to trade in the middle of August.

Gale smiles as he sees me approaching. He’s sharpening the tip of an arrow as he sits in the tall grass below a birch tree. His sack of game is decidedly larger than mine. He has it hung in a lower branch. The weight of the game bends the bough toward the ground. I nod a greeting as I settle into the shade beside him. The day is hot, but the cloud coverage has kept the sun at bay during the moments when I have been in the less dense portions of the forest. It’s a mild summer, so the game has been plentiful most days.

I watch silently as Gale continues to carve the arrow. It looks like he may have splintered it. I did that last week when an arrow intended for a deer had strayed slightly in the wind and hit a rock. I’d cursed out loud, for the loss of the deer and the fact that I had ruined another arrow.

Gale’s tanned forearms are bare today. He has been wearing looser shirts as the summer months have brought more sun. I don’t own a lot of loose clothing, so I make do with what I can. Gale has large hands, but his movements are gentle and precise. The muscles in his hands and forearms flex as he pulls the blade marginally to the left.

“We’re breaking too many of these,” I say as he finally finishes it off. He lets out a short laugh and sheaths the repaired arrow in the leather hide strapped over his back.

“We’ve been shooting more in the past few months. I’d expect more mishaps than we’ve had,” Gale smirks and leans back against the base of the birch. He’s right. Normally I would have done something foolish by now. My luck has never been great. I’m prone to mishaps the longer I stay in the forest. Gale is less inclined to have accidents and misadventures. In fact, he is more likely to be saving me from my own devices on a biweekly basis.

“Get anything good?” I ask as I look up at the heavy haul hung to my left. Gale cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders. Our bodies aren’t what they used to be and we haven’t even left our teen years behind us yet.

“Yeah, we got a good haul on the lines. Two rabbits, a squirrel, and a fox.” He smiles at the last part.

We haven’t gotten a fox in a while. The hide is worth more than our entire haul combined. I show him the two things I’ve gotten and roll my eyes when he shakes his head slightly. He likes to mock me when he gets a better haul on our split days. We’ll share the profits at any rate, so I don’t mind when he pulls in more than me. There will be another week when I get more than him anyhow.

“You want to head to the Hob soon?” Gale asks as he brushes his hands over his pant legs. The afternoon is setting in and overall this has been a good Saturday hunt, so we might as well try to get some sales done.

“Might as well. We can look for berries and herbs on the way back in,” I say.

I stand first and lower my hand toward Gale. He grips my palm and allows me to pull him to his feet. His large frame looms over me as we trudge back toward the fence under the cover of the trees. Gale has been more light-hearted lately. June was his last official reaping. He made it through with 42 slips. It was a miracle that was well deserved.

I had spent that morning preparing myself for the inevitable. It was Rory and Prim’s first reaping to top it off, so I had them to worry about too. When two merchant children were chosen I felt the familiar guilt of being thankful it wasn’t me. It was quickly washed away when I hugged Prim to my chest only a few minutes later. Gale’s mother had waited until we were home to cry happily into his shoulder. She too had expected him to be reaped. That night our families ate the largest feast we could manage.

After the games finished a month ago, Gale allowed himself to release some of the tension he has been carrying since I met him. A good portion of tension is still present though, because of worries for his family and the potential future reapings of either of our siblings. It’s nice to see the easier smile that he carries. I find myself smiling more because of it.

We pick some herbs in the damper shadier part of the valley on the way back. My mother will need most of them, but we can give some to the apothecary in the village. When we reach the fence Gale lets me slip through first. His long legs have a harder time managing it, but he is lithe like me and quite easily makes it through. We walk side by side, chatting about this and that as we head along the edge of the meadow. Gale has plans to start in the mines in a few weeks. He’s been completing the preliminary work with a handful of people from school. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when he is gone during the week. It’s hard finding a hunting partner in this district. I always knew that losing him to the higher paying work would happen. It is expected really. There isn’t much opportunity to better yourself in District 12.

We’ve barely made it to the fence when Gale and I begin another heated discussion about the future of our hunting endeavors, “We can’t feed both our families on the little amount of meat I get from the snare run”, I reason as Gale pushes a branch aside. He doesn’t seem as concerned as I am. He dismisses me with the same excuse he has been giving since last week.

“I’ll make up for it in the money from my work at the mines,” he assures me.

“And when you get hurt in there, what will we do then?” I hiss as he holds the wire of the fence open for me. He grits his teeth at my angry tone.

“We will have Sundays to hunt. It’ll be fine Catnip, it’ll still be our time,” Gale says lightly. The way he says _our time_ makes the hair on my arms stand up. It is a tone I have heard more often from him. Like things reserved for me are more _special_ than other things. He opens the door to the Hob and heads in before giving me the chance to respond.

It’s hot inside. We’ll be in and out quickly today. Gale has plans to sell some things to some merchants before we make our way home to eat dinner with our families. We split up to bargain. I take the fox and woodchuck to bargain their pelts with an older man, Jones, who will take them for a high price.

“Afternoon Everdeen,” Jones intones as he tilts his head in greeting. I offer a soft “hello” in return and pull my bag up on his makeshift counter.

“What’ve you got?” He wipes his hands on an apron tied precariously on his hips.

I pull out the fox and woodchuck and spread them out for viewing. He takes a moment to examine the fox fur, a slight smirk on his lips. He begins to nod as he finds very few blemishes. The fox has his summer coat which is silkier and thinner than usual. It is clean and in decent shape. I bite the inside of my cheek as Jones finally pulls out his large skinning knife.

“She looks fine as far as I see. I’ll give you 15 coins and add 3 for the woodchuck,” Jones offers.

I’m not in the mood to bargain, but I know the pelt will be worth more than 15. I sigh and grip the counter for a moment, trying to fix a pensive look on my face.

“I don’t know Jones, she’s worth a little more than that. I’d say at least 20,” I wager. Jones crosses his arms and lightly taps the flat of his knife against his hip, staring at the pelt for another moment.

“I can do 17 Everdeen and that’s because you’re a reliable source of future hides,” he nods his reply. I let him watch me think on it for a moment before I wager 18 coins. He smirks and nods his agreement. I allow a small smile before I help him strip the hide.

He makes small talk as we separate the meat. I give him the heart and liver after he has taken the hide, then I wrap the rest in the butcher paper I keep tucked in my bag. He lets me use a towel to wipe the blood from my hands. Some of it is sealed into the lines of my palms. They’ll need a good scrub before I go anywhere near Prim later. Jones bids me a quiet farewell as he turns to a customer.

Next I make my way toward the butcher stall. The merchant couple deals in the black market only on weekends. Most merchants don’t even bother to sell in the Hob. I give them the portions of fox meat that I know will give me the best chance of striking a good deal. I keep the rest of the meat to make a dinner meal with. My mother will be able to make something meaningful of it. I bid farewell to them and head toward Sae’s stall to meet up with Gale. I can see that Gale’s given her a rabbit as I throw my bag onto the counter.

“Girl, you look fresh today. The weather has been doing you good,” Sae says as she greets me with a toothy smile. She pats my face with her wrinkled hand and sets a flat pork sandwich in front of me.

“I look the same as always Sae, but thanks. _This_ looks good though, no soup today?” I lean against the side of her stall. Gale is happily munching on his own sandwich against the other side.

“No, but tomorrow this rabbit will make a nice stew,” Sae smiles as she thumps the furry lump with her knobby hand before turning toward a customer. I eat quickly. The slight ache in my stomach tells me I was hungrier than I thought.

Gale and I both know that we can get the best trade for the squirrel at the bakery in town, so once we’ve finished our sandwiches and bid our goodbyes to Sae we begin the trek into the little village square. Our trip is mainly silent. Gale nods his head to a few passersby before we quietly slip into the alley between the bakery and the cobbler’s shop.

Gale picks at a thread on his vest as I knock quietly on the backdoor to the bakery, hoping that the baker’s wife isn’t the one to answer. I wait a beat and knock a second time, glancing at Gale before the door pulls open quickly. I smile up at the baker, but find the smile slipping as my eyes meet those of Peeta Mellark, the baker’s youngest son.

Peeta seems shocked for a moment, as am I, but his face slides into a firm grin a he greets us, “Morning Katniss, Gale.” He nods at my hunting partner, but doesn’t maintain eye contact.

His eyes are the deepest sky blue I have ever seen on a merchant. I feel a flush settling on my neck as I remember the way those eyes have watched me over the past few years, likely seeking a _thank you_ to the debt I owe him. Peeta looks down at my hunting bag curiously.

I clear my throat and pull the bag open, “We’ve got just one squirrel today.” I pull the trade from my bag and raise it up for him to examine. Peeta gingerly looks at the animal and then raises his eyes to mine, smiling once more.

“We’ll take it, let me get your trade,” he moves from the door, leaving it ajar and spreading the warmth and smell of bread into our faces. Peeta returns with a white paper bag laden with our trade items.

“Six fresh cheddar biscuits,” he says as he hands me the package.

Our fingers brush and I’m about to protest that his father always gives us a small loaf of white bread when a blaring sound startles us. At first it sounds like the sirens of the mine, but the sound is much louder and seems to surround the village entirely. I step away from the doorway, backing into Gale’s chest accidently. We look down the alleyway into the square and see people rushing around, running into buildings.

“What’s going on?” I yell over the wailing alarms, gripping Gale’s forearm. Peeta looks at us with the same confusion I feel etched on his features.

Gale shakes his head, “Come on.” He pulls me toward the square into the crowd of people.

I anxiously look around at the faces of the other people that have gathered. An elderly woman hobbles out of the cobbler’s shop, staring up into the sky. She begins to yell, “The bells! The bells! It’s an air-raid! Get to the shelters!” She screams it in between the wails of the sirens, gesturing wildly at anyone who stops to stare at her.

I glance up at Gale who seems just as confused as I am. I wonder if this woman lived through the Great War. _Maybe she’s telling the truth._ Several people heed her warning and start pulling their family members into their backyards, but others continue to empty from the shops, staring dumb-founded into the sky. Small children cover their ears with their palms. The sound is so much louder than the mine sirens have ever been, it’s nearly deafening. Beyond the pierce of it I begin to hear a low hum forming in the distance.

“A hovercraft,” Gale yells, pulling me away from the bakery a few more steps.

I huddle closer to Gale, staring up into the beautiful sky above us. I drop my gaze to the front of the bakery where Peeta Mellark and his older brother are standing in the doorway. Peeta’s mouth is agape, our eyes meet and hold as the cacophony of screams, sirens, and aircraft meld around us. Gale pushes me toward the Seam and I tear my eyes away from Peeta

“We’ve gotta get home,” he yells. I nod and begin running beside him, my eyes roaming the square in front of us.

A large Peacekeeper begins to load small children into his metal sided car as his partner directs people to run toward the Seam. I’m amazed to see Peacekeepers across the square ushering people to safety, pulling them into armored cars and directing them toward the shelters located beneath the Justice Building. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen; Peacekeepers caring for citizens of Panem, helping them, and sheltering them - it’s unimaginable.

My ears feel stuffed with cotton as Gale shoves me forward. Everything is deafening. People begin scrambling left and right into buildings and down alley ways. A piercing shrieking noise cuts through the air, followed by the sonic boom of an explosion. The ground shakes menacingly, causing my knees to buckle. Gale topples over me in his haste. He roughly pulls me to my feet and drags me forward once more.

“Come on Catnip, run!” His scream is permeated by the shrill sound of what I can only assume is a bomb. The sound swallows Gale’s voice and the sheer fear in his eyes consumes my own fear, turning into a great beast of terror.

We reach the Seam and Town divide and a sharp gasp bites out of me. Gale and I stare for just a moment, before we run on. The Seam appears to be entirely engulfed in flames on one side. Gale pulls me along the edge of the fence away from the blazing intense heat and light. His hand grips mine so tightly I can barely feel my fingers.

We get to my house first. I scramble up the steps, my limbs shaking and my heart pounding in my ears. My hand is quaking so roughly, I struggle to turn the doorknob. Gale puts his hand over mine, turning it roughly. We burst through the door. There isn’t anyone in the main room. My heart jolts as I run into the bedroom we all share. Gale peeks into the washroom.

“Prim! Mom!” I scream, even though I can tell they aren’t here.

“Hey,” Gale breaths. He is standing at the rickety wooden table holding a small piece of paper, a note. I rush to his side, snatching it from his grasp. It’s my mother’s handwriting, loopy and slanted. _Katniss, Mr. Ashburn has influenza. We are checking up on him and preparing some meals for him to use over the weekend._

Fear bursts anew in my chest. “I don’t know where that is!” I rush out.

Gale looks perplexed. He isn’t sure where the elderly Mr. Ashburn lives either. My mother stayed friendly with his family, even though she defied her own relatives. The man lost his wife several years ago and my mother has continued to check up on him from time to time. He’s 85 year old now. He’s been alive since the dark days, when the Great War died out and the Hunger Games was born. Mr. Ashborn probably needed some help around the house. Likely, my mother and sister planned to work on his dishes and laundry as well.

Gale grips my shoulders, pulling my gaze to his, “We’ll find them Catnip. Let’s go. There isn’t much time. We need to get Ma and the kids.”

We bound off my porch and run into the street, making our way toward Gale’s home. There are fires bursting forth in every direction. People pour from their houses, some screaming for loved ones, others yelling in fear. We run past a family towing their crying children toward town. Gale stops abruptly, looking back at them with worry etched across his features. We hear a few more explosions as another hovercraft zooms high above us.

Gale looks around him again and I note that others are running toward the town as well. “Run to the forest!” Gale begins yelling at anyone that we see. We pick up our pace, rounding a corner toward the Hawthorne home and the group shakes violently again, nearly throwing me to the left.

“Run to the East, follow the streams!” I yell in between Gale’s warnings. He continues his litany of _run to the tree, run to the forest, take cover in the woods._

We tell every person to seek refuge in the tree line as we choke on smoke and fumes. Most of the people heed our warnings, all Seam-folk know that we are familiar with the forest. We reach Gale’s block faster than I realize. The fire has yet to hit his street and people are running in all directions here as well. Several stop to listen to our pleas. A man I recognize as Bristel Warnock herds a large group of people, parroting our plea into the night.

Gale nods at him, pointing toward the other end of the street where the dirt path spreads a swath toward the meadow. Bristel pulls the group with him. Beyond him I see a mass exodus as people run into the meadow away from the burning district. Gale bounds up the steps to his own porch, yanking open the door. It bangs loudly against the wall, causing his mother to jump. Hazelle is hastily packing a bag of food and belongings.

“Gale!” Hazelle rushes forward with a relieved expression, gripping him to her chest quickly before turning back to her task. “We need supplies. We need to go to the fence.” Hazelle demands quickly.

Without a word, Gale mirrors his mother, packing his hunting bag with whatever food he can shove inside. I watch him numbly until my brain buzzes to life, the kids will need a coat in the frigid night temperatures of the forest. Posy is crying profusely beside a terrified Vick. I pull their coats down from the rack.

“It’s alright Posy, we’ll be okay. You need to get dressed,” I say. I pull the coat over her small frame and hand Vick’s to him before I take Posy’s small teary face into my palms.

I kneel in front of her, pulling her wet cheeks toward me until her eyes meet mine, “Posy, I need you to hold tight to Vick’s hand when we leave here. Don’t leave his side.” She nods, sucking in large gulps of air as the tears continue to flow.

I turn to Vick, his face white as a sheet of fresh paper, “Vick, if we get separated run to the stream, follow it as far away from here as you can. It splits. You need to go right. There is a lake at the base of the mountain. Do you understand?” He nods shakily, pulling Posy’s small hand into his own.

“When the stream splits, go right,” He murmurs.

I nod, “You’re a good boy Vick, you make sure that Posy stays with you.” He nods again and I see the shimmer of held-back tears in his dark grey eyes.

Hazelle pulls the bedding off the cots, stuffing it into the satchel that’s near bursting on the table. We all exit the house. Gale looks around, making sure his family is set. Then turns to his mother in realization, “Where’s Rory?”

Hazelle bites her bottom lip looking down the street, the way we had come. The flames are rising two streets over. “He went to the Everdeen’s. They should have been here by now,” she says quickly. My heart plummets into the bottom of my stomach. Gale and I share a horrified look.

“No one’s there! We came from there.” Gale yells over the din. He looks torn, peering one way toward the meadow and then the other way toward my home. Hazelle instantly understands what he will do. She pulls the kids along to the safety of the forest, “Go, hurry. Find them!”

Gale angrily charges back in the direction of my street, his bag swinging roughly on his hip. We see Rory just as we approach a house engulfed in flames. He’s carrying blankets and a bag, probably stuffed with food from my house. I recognize my mother’s patchwork wedding quilt slung over his shoulder. Rory seems shaken, but his expression bleeds relief as he sets eyes on us. Gale grips him tightly for a moment, relief evident on his face as well.

“I couldn’t find Prim and your mother,” Rory gasps out. My ears are ringing from the noises around us, but those words are clear as day in my head. Tears begin to well in my eyes as the shock of everything starts to catch up with me. I’ve no idea where my sister and mother are, but I need to find them before the entire district goes up in flames _. I can’t lose them too._

“Listen Rory, go to the fence. Ma and the kids entered the forest from the meadow. They’ll follow the stream until it forks. Go right to the lake I told you about,” Gale rushes out. Rory nods, hugging Gale again roughly.

A second too late, I realize what this means. He’s coming with me and leaving Rory to care for the rest of the Hawthorne’s in his stead.

I begin to protest, but Gale cuts me short, “No. We are partners. We will find them together.”

Rory determinedly runs for the forest. We watch him for a beat, before running in the opposite direction toward town. Mr. Ashburn lives somewhere around the Bakery in town. That’s all I can remember. I’ve never been there myself.

The hazy fog of smoke and coal dust chokes me and stings my eyes as we get closer to the Town and Seam line. Some of the houses hiss and crackle as we run by their great flaming windows. Gale pulls me back when a large home crumbles in on itself in front of us. Some of the debris flies haphazardly and I feel the scrape of something burning down my arm. I ignore it as we tumble forward, clinging to each other as a nearby window bursts out from the heat. The sharp shards of glass rain down on our shoulders, peppering us and cutting our cheeks.

We round a corner and stumble into the square. Many of the buildings have completely crumbled to the ground forming giant piles of smoldering rubble. Some of them have just one or two walls still standing. I gape as I realize we have stopped in front of the bakery. The building is completely in ruins. It looks like something exploded there, but there are no flames. My eyes fall to the middle Mellark brother, knelt just six paces away from us and cradling an unconscious Peeta in his arms. I step forward and see that there is a large gash on the side of his head, seeping blood down his pale face and neck. _He saved me once._ I’m struck with the feeling that I can’t let Peeta Mellark die. _He saved me, and I must save him, I owe him that._

“What are you doing? Let’s go.” Gale pulls at my arm roughly. I shake my head, glancing back at Peeta.

“We can’t leave him here. We need to get him to the forest,” I pull my arm from his grasp and rush toward Peeta’s unconscious form. His brother looks up, confused as I approach.

“Katniss, we need to find your mom and Prim!” Gale screams back, catching up with me quickly.

“We need to help him too! I need to Gale.” He stares at me, mouth open, looking at me as though I’ve just grown another appendage like a Capitol mutt.

“I can’t explain now, but I need you to do this for me, Gale. I owe him this much. Get him to the fence. I’ll find Prim myself,” I grit out, because I can’t even begin to explain why I need Peeta Mellark to be alive.

Gale and Peeta’s brother look at each other in confusion. Gale seems about to protest again, but he acquiesces after his eyes roam over my face and see the concern there. He nods before bending forward to help haul Peeta up from the ground. Peeta groans, murmuring something unintelligible. They lift his semi-conscious body between them, holding his arms around their shoulders. His head lolls to one side and his feet drag the ground as they turn.

“Be careful, Everdeen,” Peeta’s brother says. I nod in affirmation and bound toward the other side of the square. I don’t stop to watch them drag him away, but my heart feels lighter somehow.

I run another block, feeling the burn of toxic air in my lungs. It’s so black with dust and smoke that I can only see about 50 yards ahead. I catch a glimpse of blond hair up ahead. It’s Prim, crying as she sits on the bottom step of what must be Mr. Ashburn’s house. I scream her name as I approach and watch her expression morph into surprise. She stands shakily and runs toward me. We hug so forcefully that we almost fall into the grass. I run my hands over her body and press kisses on her face as I check to see if she is hurt. She appears whole, but terrified.

“Where’s mom?” I ask, stepping back and looking up at the looming house.

“I-I-I don’t know!” She blubbers, watching down the block where a woman’s incessant screaming can be heard, “She went to check on that person, but hasn’t come back. She told me to stay here with Mr. Ashburn.”

There isn’t any more time to wait on my mother and my main priority is Prim’s safety, but I also can’t just leave her behind. We begin to walk quickly back down the street toward the screaming, but before we can reach the next house, my mother’s face appears from around the side of some rubble. She’s cradling an infant in her arms and two small blond children are trailing behind her, both crying loudly.

“Their mother is hurt too badly,” my mother explains. “Where’s Mr. Ashburn?” Prim shakes her head, “He won’t come with me. He says this is like the old times and if that’s happening again he doesn’t want to be around anyway.” My mother nods, a strange expression on her face.

Prim and I each scoop a crying child into our arms. The older child clings to my chest, sobbing into my shoulder. The three of us run, carrying our fragile loads and following the tree line behind the huge houses. We reach a spot where people from town are pouring through the broken fence. A Peacekeeper is perched at the opening, yelling for people to be careful. Prim has a pack of medicines still strapped to her back and the bottles clank loudly as we run to the opening.

No one pushes, but there is still a steady energy of panic as the bodies jostle together shakily. People continue to scream, but not from fear. Instead the vast darkness is filled with voices crying out for loved ones. My heart clenches tightly as I think about whether the Hawthorne’s made it here safely.

I weave between the trees, tripping over roots and stumbling around rocks and bushes. Injured people from all parts of the District support each other as we move deeper into the dark dense area beyond. Moonlight streams through the canopy of leaves, but it’s intermittent at best. I vaguely recognize some boulders that we pass and realize that we are heading toward the part of the forest where I hide my hunting gear. Liberation floods through my veins, revitalizing me.

I glance back and see that a large group of people are following me as we get further into the woods. We pass people resting against tree trunks, holding each other and tending to wounds. Several bodies are mostly mangled flesh and blood. I try not to look at them. There are Peacekeepers dotted in the groups we pass, carrying children or supporting elderly citizens.

I lead my sister and mother on, not stopping to rest. There is a singular thought in my mind, revolving around the need to retrieve my bow and provisions. As we crest the outcropping of rocks where I hide it under a log, my eyes fall on Gale, already retrieving our hidden hunting supplies. He seems to have also amassed a large group of wanderers.

“You made it,” he breathes out. I nod simply, scanning the crowd around us. There are a few men huddled around in a group and I see Peeta slung between them. Someone fashioned a blanket as a gurney for him. His brother stands at his side, holding one edge of the fabric.

I stare openly at the haggard faces around me. It feels as though we have traveled a million miles. Night envelopes us, so it has at least been hours since the bombing began.

“Do you know a place we can go?” An older Seam man asks me, coming up to stand between Gale and myself. He glances between us expectantly.

“There is a lake about ten miles to the East. It’s at the base of the tallest mountain. All of the streams come from there,” I explain, glancing around. “There is a field to rest in and an apple orchard not far from there. People could get something to eat, get water from the streams.” Some of the men and women murmur their assent.

“If you lead them, I’ll go back and search for me people. Anyone that stumbles on this trail is sure to find you and make it there,” Gale says, looking down at the trampled vegetation below our feet. A few of the older Seam residents around us nod once more. Several of them volunteer to go back with him.

“Gale, be safe,” I say, letting my eyes memorize his face in this moment. He nods, swallowing thickly. He presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek and one to the top of Posy’s head. Rory and Vick look worried, but don’t say anything as he disappears into the dark night.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.” I turn to see Haymitch Abernathy smiling grimly at me. I see that a third large group of frightened residents are trailing behind him. _Please tell me more people than this have survived_. I shiver.

I blaze a trail toward the mountain, cutting away from the stream to take a more direct path. As we go, people fall into the mass of bodies following near silently through the trees. Several Peacekeepers hold up the rear. They ignore the weapons in our hands, instead they direct people to keep together and say that no one will be left behind. I feel as though we are shepherding a flock of lost sheep. It takes several hours, we assemble a much larger following by the end, but our wary group eventually reaches the lakeshore. The serene water shimmers in the moonlight, seeming as though we are in a different world entirely.

People collapse to the ground, crying with relief or maybe allowing the emotion of the horrible experience to finally catch up with them. Others are yelling for familiar faces or family members, meandering through the crowd. The little boy in my arms is fast asleep, exhausted. I glance at Prim and find that the little girl she is carrying is also completely asleep.

“Let’s set up a medical ward, Prim,” my mother says, glancing at the old building on the shore. I finally notice that my mother has her small medical bag still slung over her shoulder as well. There will at least be bandages, salves, and herbs inside. The infant is beginning to fuss quietly in her arms, probably hungry for its’ mother’s milk.

“We can lay the children inside and start setting up a place to help,” she nods to herself. Prim follows her, looking determined as her eyes scan the injured people around us. The crying version of Prim that I met on Mr. Ashburn's steps is gone. Instead, she has been replaced with a fierce girl.

I shift the little boy to my other shoulder as a group of blond women approach me. They are covered in dirt, blood, and black coal dust. Their blue eyes shimmering bright and blazing against the filth on their faces.

“Thank you for leading us,” one of the women says. I vaguely recognize her as the cobbler’s wife, Mrs. Cartwright.

I’m not sure how to respond, but before I can say anything Darius appears at my elbow. “Katniss, you still have no idea the affect you have on people.” I gape at him for a moment, feeling a tinge of blush settle in my cheeks.

He shakes his head, then points toward some Peacekeepers gathered next to the building where my mother and Prim are setting up their medicinal supplies, “We are radioing for help from the Capitol. They’ll be here by morning. It sounds like whoever did this attacked every district on the East coast of Panem.”

My brain rings with the reality that we may not be alone in the world.


End file.
